


Enough's Enough

by akitsuko



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Arguing, Biting, Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Face-Fucking, First Kiss, First Time Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Loud Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:53:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24460852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akitsuko/pseuds/akitsuko
Summary: They've been flirting around the issue of their mutual attraction for too long, and Oswald is done with it. He confronts Edward.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 14
Kudos: 145





	Enough's Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in Edward's library hideout, at some point after the Mr Penn/Scarface thing. Vagueness is vague, but I'm here primarily for the sexy times, hashtag yolo.
> 
> Inspired by 'King for a Day' by Pierce the Veil. Listening to it will only enhance your life, it gives me major nygmobblepot vibes.

"I'm sick of playing, Edward!" 

He's shouting, screaming. Frustration manifests as rage. His entire body shaking as his volatile emotional state no doubt plays transparently across his face. 

It was the straw that broke his back. Weeks of dancing around each other, too obvious to be mistaken and yet too vague to take the risk. A bizarre parody of a tango without contact. One leaning in as the other leant away. Teases without force or intent, taking turns to dangle each other over the precipice of what  _ could be _ if they would only take the plunge. 

Edward, too tall and too close to do anything other than look down at him, maintains his schooled and carefully blank expression. The mouse to Oswald's cat; still playing, even as Oswald calls his bluff. "I'm not sure I follow."

Oswald grinds his teeth, fists his hands in Edward's lapels as he bursts out a short and manic laugh. But there's no amusement in his eyes. "Are you kidding? It's like I don't even know the rules!" 

He shoves Edward away from him, roughly, and turns his back. He hopes that this will alleviate the urge to punch the man in his handsome face, but his fists clench all the same. 

It isn't  _ fair.  _

"Oswald…" 

Apparently Edward is not so keen to drop the pathetic charade they've created. What he needs it for, Oswald can't imagine; he's handing Edward a way out on a silver platter. It's ridiculous that he isn't taking it. And the last thing Oswald wants to do is hurt him, but he is a creature of violent impulses and he's not sure how much longer the few remaining taut threads of his temper will hold. 

Edward's hand, placed gently over his shoulder (a placating gesture if ever there was one), is the catalyst his blood needs to reach boiling point. He spins to face him again, displacing the hand even as the touch is branded into his skin through the layers of his suit. He has no cane, no gun, just himself, and yet his fury radiates a danger that has Edward stepping backwards as he advances. 

"You cannot be serious! Stop pretending you don't know what this is. What we're doing. I can't do it anymore. I need either closure or  _ nothing,  _ because this-" he waves his hand between the two of them, "-is tearing me apart."

They're close again now, so close. Edward's eyes narrow just a little, and his voice is low, as sure a sign of dangerous territory as Oswald's own infuriated passion. 

"Don't do this, Oswald." 

It's a warning, but Oswald is at the end of his tether, beyond the point of caring for Edward's ominous tone. "Don't do  _ what,  _ Ed?" he spits. "Don't pretend everything is dandy? Don't say anything that draws attention to our cowardice? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't!" 

Edward knows what he's talking about. They're breathing the same air, hot and angry, a tension unresolved for such a long time simmering beneath the surface of their words. Hard stares, neither backing down. 

"Because, for the first time in recent memory, we aren't trying to kill each other," Edward says. He reaches up, as if to touch Oswald's face, but Oswald snatches his hand out of the air and jerks it away again. 

"And yet," Oswald takes hold of Edward's tie and yanks him down, nose to nose, shaking with the force of everything Ed doesn't want him to say, "I feel like I'm dying anyway."

A few beats of painful silence, harsh breathing. 

"We could lose this," Edward whispers. 

"I'm tired of  _ this!"  _ Oswald explodes, his grip on Edward's tie ever tightening, whole body shaking. "This- this tentative alliance, an almost friendship. I can't keep acting like it's enough!"

A pained expression comes to rest on Edward's face, his eyes shutting as if he can block out Oswald's words. If it could only be so easy. Once upon a time, Oswald would have given anything for the two of them to have this cautious camaraderie back. How could he have known how much it would hurt? To have Edward within arm's reach while still so painfully distant. 

"You must know, Ed," he attempts to calm himself, "that I never stopped loving you."

Edward's mouth is on him before he can realise it's happening, fingers clutching at his biceps and digging in tight. It's the impression of a dam breaking, glass shattering under the pressure of everything left unsaid. Messy and desperate and exhilarating. Oswald's free hand grabs at Edward's suit. 

It's not the tender, almost hesitant, first kiss that has featured in so many of Oswald's secret fantasies. He's imagined himself shivering with the anticipation as Edward leans slowly towards him. He's imagined the ghost of Edward's hands hovering at his jaw. He's imagined the soft press of Edward's lips against his own, filling his stomach with butterflies. 

This is something else. It's hard and harsh. Edward refuses to part from him, bruising kisses one moment, biting on his lips the next with those sharp teeth. His tongue pushes into Oswald's mouth, one hand coming up to fist in his hair, and Oswald groans, deep and raw. Edward swallows the sound into himself. He pulls Oswald closer, keen to eliminate any remaining distance, and Oswald is powerless to resist. 

All at once, they break apart at the mouth but remain pressed together and clinging to each other, drawing ragged breaths. Edward rests his forehead against Oswald's, and Oswald feels the pinch of his glasses as they dig awkwardly into his face. He's closed his eyes during the kiss and he's reluctant to open them now, lest this turns out to be a particularly cruel and vivid trick. He's not sure he could bear the heartbreak again. 

Then he hisses as Edward's lips drop to his neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive flesh there. There's nothing gentle about this either, and Oswald spares a fleeting thought that he could end up covered in bruises like an overripe peach. The imagery, combined with the knowledge that Edward is the culprit, sends a jolt of arousal down his spine. 

"Oswald," Edward gasps against his neck. "Our communication could use improvement."

He bites down, hard, and Oswald sees stars as he howls. 

He doesn't reply to Edward, he can't. The words stick in his throat, and they don't seem important anyway. His vision is hazy, sight no longer a priority for his body while under this assault from Edward's mouth. He caused this. He baited Edward, and Edward has unhinged his jaw to take anything he can get, and it is utterly breathtaking. How could it be anything but? 

The next time Edward's teeth sink into his skin, at the juncture between his neck and shoulder, Oswald decides he's done being a passive recipient. He shoves and they stumble together until Edward's back is against one of the bookcases, with Oswald's body pressed flush against his front. 

Even if this never happens again, Oswald will never forget it, and he intends to make damn sure that Edward won't either. He's far from experienced, but hours upon hours of fantasy alone have given him some very clear ideas of what he wants, and he's more than ready to oblige Edward anything he might desire. This is no time for nerves or hesitation. 

Edward bends his knees a little, compensating for their height difference, and the two of them whimper in tandem as their hips come into alignment. Oswald's brain almost short circuits at the feeling of Edward's cock through their clothes, hard and so, so close to his own; he growls, attempting to ground himself as he yanks Edward up by his hair for another messy kiss, and Edward goes enthusiastically, hips jerking of their own accord. 

_ He really wants this _ . The thought makes Oswald delirious. He licks at the roof of Edward's mouth, desperate to taste every bit of him, feeding on the delightful little whines coming out of him. Then, suddenly, Edward's hands are dropping, reaching around to grab at his ass, pulling him in to grind against him. Now Oswald is the one moaning, embarrassingly high pitched, as he ruts against the tense muscle of Edward's thigh. 

His blood rushes in his ears, movements dictated by want, and he's lost in the feeling of Edward. It's all he's ever wanted, this clash of teeth and skin. He burns wherever Edward touches, and he craves more, everything, anything Edward is willing to give. 

If Edward wants his heart, he can take it. Tear it from his chest and eat Oswald alive. 

The need for him is too much. 

Oswald breaks the kiss with a gasp and drops to his knees, wincing a little at the pain that shoots through his leg. He'll have time to deal with that later though, at some point when his face isn't inches from Edward's groin. Priorities. 

His hands, hurried and a little clumsy, make short work of Edward's belt buckle and trouser fastenings. It's only when his fingers are hooked into the waistband and attempting to pull them down that Edward seems to catch up with what's happening, hands coming to clutch at Oswald's shoulders. 

"You don't-" he cuts himself off with a choked breath as Oswald presses his face against his dick, the thin cotton of his underwear acting as the only barrier between them, and inhales deeply. 

Oswald flicks his gaze up. Edward's usual mask of composure is gone, replaced by flushed cheeks and messy hair and swollen, reddened lips. He looks debauched and ruined. It's the most beautiful sight Oswald has ever seen. He stares, committing the image to memory, as he peels the underwear out of his way. The flush on Edward's face deepens and his chest heaves. His cock strains away from his body, almost already leaking; Oswald takes it in his hand, practically watering at the mouth, and Edward's whole body jolts. 

_ Gorgeous.  _

"If you're trying to say that I don't have to," Oswald murmurs, stroking along the length, testing the weight of it, "then so help me, Edward, I'll have no choice but to conclude that you are a moron."

He takes the tip into his mouth, one hand steadying at the base and the other curled around Edward's hip. He's never done this before, but it's not so different to how he's imagined. It's strange feeling the stretch of his lips. He flicks his tongue experimentally, applies a little suction, can't help but slide further down to take more. He can feel Edward shaking under his fingers, restraint quickly becoming an internal struggle. When he looks back up, Edward is staring straight at him through hooded eyes, mouth hanging open as if in… disbelief? Awe? Whatever it is, it's perfect. Oswald keeps their gazes locked as he swallows Edward down further. The groan that rumbles out of Edward is delectable. 

Oswald finds that he can't fit the entirety of Edward's cock in his mouth, but he makes up for the deficit with a saliva-slick hand. He tries everything he's ever thought of, using all the tools at his disposal - tongue, inner cheeks, barely-there scrapes of teeth - and thoroughly enjoys himself as he discovers what makes Edward tick. How to draw more of those delicious noises out of him, how to make his fingers tighten where they continue to rest on his shoulders, what makes his pelvis thrust forwards and what causes his legs to tremble. 

One particularly hard thrust unexpectedly triggers Oswald's gag reflex. His eyes water and he splutters as Edward babbles apologies, but his own erection throbs more insistently than ever, thus far neglected in his pants. How novel.

As he gets his breath back, he moves Edward's hands into his hair, encouraging him to set his own pace, before placing both of his own hands at Edward's hips. 

Edward seems unsure, at first. He keeps it slow, in and out, testing the waters and Oswald's tolerance. 

"God, Oswald…"

He's breathless, and that's wonderful, but Oswald wants him screaming, wants him wrecked and unable ever to set foot in a library again without thinking of this. So he moans loudly around Edward's cock, wanton and exaggerated but genuine, and hopes that the vibrations of it will help to ebb away at Edward's self-control. 

It works spectacularly. Another dam broken. Edward holds Oswald's head in place as he begins to fuck his mouth in earnest, hissing and biting his lip. Oswald has to close his eyes and concentrate. He can barely breathe and it's  _ incredible.  _ Over and over, Edward hits the back of his throat, no chance to recover in between. Saliva overflows from his mouth and spills down his chin. His eyes are streaming. His senses are completely overwhelmed, nothing but the feel and taste and sound of Edward, and he distantly thinks he'll be lucky if he doesn't come in his pants, completely untouched, just from this. If he could, he would beg for it harder. 

All too soon, Edward pulls roughly at his hair, disengaging him completely. His mouth is slack as he gasps for breath and coughs, craning his neck up to give Edward a questioning look. "Why did you stop?" His voice comes out as a croak. 

Edward stares, as if in a trance. "Look at you…" he says, then shakes his head rapidly. "I was getting too close. I didn't think you would want…" He trails off into silence, and it takes Oswald a moment to understand, but as soon as he does he lets out a low growl. The nerve of him, making such assumptions. Oswald wants  _ everything.  _

He leans back in, takes as much of Edward into his mouth as he can manage, and sets his own brutal pace immediately. Shows Edward just how little he cares for his holding back. It must take Edward slightly by surprise, because his head thumps back against the bookcase as he splutters out a throaty sound of desperation. Within seconds he's fucking Oswald's face again, and Oswald sucks him mercilessly until his rhythm finally begins to stutter. 

"Oswald, I'm-... Oh my, oh my, Os-" 

Oswald feels the release before he tastes it, thick pulses of bitter fluid filling his mouth. It's not so bad. He attempts to swallow it, but with Edward's cock still twitching in his mouth, most of it ends up dribbling from the corners of his lips. He basks, just for a moment, before allowing Edward to slip free from him and fishing a handkerchief from his pocket to clean up his face and chin. 

Edward seems to need a minute to get his bearings again. He's slumped bonelessly against the bookcase and he looks an absolute mess, although Oswald can't imagine he looks much better himself. 

Slowly, Edward pulls his underwear and trousers back up, then he looks down at Oswald, still on his knees, still achingly hard. Oswald isn't sure where to go from here. Will Edward mind if he masturbates right here and now? Ought he come up to kiss Edward first? He palms himself through his trousers, just a touch of relief, and meets Edward's eyes. They're almost black, pupils dilated. He waits. 

Suddenly, Edward seems to come to his senses. He pulls Oswald up by his lapels, almost off the floor completely, and backs him up until they hit the desk. Then he kisses Oswald, deep and no less fierce, before pushing him down onto his back and stepping between his legs. 

Oswald is lust-addled and aching. He doesn't know what Edward has in mind, but he wants it regardless. He can still taste Edward's climax on his tongue, barely able to believe that he was the one to coax it out. It makes it difficult to focus, even as Edward gets his trousers and underwear down to his ankles with shaking fingers. 

For a moment, Edward just looks at him, and he feels uncomfortably exposed under the scrutiny. No one has ever seen him like this. He fights the urge to cover himself, and he's on the verge of snapping out something sarcastic and mood-killing when Edward finally takes him in hand. All thoughts vacate Oswald's brain as his focus zeroes in on Edward stroking him slowly, exploratory, almost reverent. He thrusts his hips shamelessly into Edward's grip, but Edward maintains his pace and simply huffs out a laugh when Oswald keens from the gradual stimulation. 

"I never thought I'd get to have you like this," Edward breathes, rubbing his thumb over the head and making Oswald's eyes roll back in his head. "So much has happened, and the time has never been right. Of course you would be the one to make us confront it. You've always been better at emotions than I have."

Edward might as well be talking to himself for all that Oswald is able to listen to him. His entire universe is narrowed down to the feeling of Edward's hand steadily working him and bringing him closer to the edge. 

"Ed," he gasps, "please!" 

Edward brings his free hand up, pushing his fingers against Oswald's lips. "Get them wet," he demands, his voice low and commanding, and Oswald opens up without hesitation. He would probably cut his own arm off if Edward asked him like that. He swirls his tongue around the intruding digits, grateful to have something to distract him from the torturously slow pace of Edward's other hand around his cock, 

Then Oswald's mouth is empty again, and his whole body jolts as one of Edward's fingers slips between his ass cheeks. It presses against his rim and makes him squirm, unsure whether he enjoys the sensation or not. 

"It's not perfect," Edward murmurs. "Actual lube would be better, more comfortable for you. I might have some in the bathroom."

With a clarity of mind he hadn't expected, Oswald half sits up and seizes Ed by his wrists, preventing him from pulling away. "If you so much as step away from me right now, I will never forgive you."

Edward smirks and kisses him, and pushes the tip of his finger into Oswald without any further hesitation. It's like nothing Oswald has ever felt; he gasps, falling back onto the desk and arching his back. His muscles clench around the finger as it eases deeper. It burns a little, but combined with Edward's continued attention to his cock, the pleasure outweighs the slight discomfort. 

He consciously realises, belatedly, that  _ Edward is inside him _ . That thought is more arousing than he has ever imagined it could be. 

The burn eases, and soon that single finger isn't enough. "I… I need…" Oswald tries, but he can't get the words out. His body is caught in an internal war, attempting to thrust up into Edward's hand and push down onto his finger at the same time. How is he supposed to manage coherent speech as well? Fortunately, Edward knows him better than anybody else in the world and reads his mind, pushing a second finger in alongside the first, further stretching the tight ring of muscle and bringing back the burning sensation. 

Oswald exhales a shaky breath, then almost flies off the desk as Edward twists his fingers and crooks them  _ just so _ . "Ed!" he wails, unable to help his volume. He needs Edward to hit that same spot again, and immediately. 

Edward's smirk takes a predatory turn, and his game plan changes abruptly. Having found Oswald's prostate, he thrusts his fingers against it relentlessly, picking up the pace of his hand on Oswald's erection to match. The dual sensations are too much for Oswald to bear with any sort of decency. His body flails as he tries to get more of both, a steady stream of pleas and curses spilling from his mouth, interspersed with fevered moans that would be humiliating under any other circumstances. 

"Come for me, Oswald," Edward demands, and that does it. Oswald's entire body thrashes with the force of his orgasm and he cries out, blinded by the pleasure coursing through his veins. He can barely breathe for the fulfillment. Edward strokes him through it, stopping only when he begins to quiver from oversensitivity. He pulls his fingers out gently, and Oswald vaguely notices the feeling of emptiness before all his residual tension suddenly evaporates. He collapses back, limp and breathless and staring at the ceiling as he regains control of his body. 

"That was… That was…"

Edward chuckles under his breath. "Yes, it was."

Shared breaths and, for once, a moment of comfortable silence. Oswald shuffles, pushing himself up on his elbows and feeling awkward as he becomes aware that his softening cock is still on display. He staggers to stand on wobbly legs and redresses himself, wiping his own sticky ejaculate from his stomach, only daring to look back up at Edward once he's done. 

Edward's mask of composure is back in place, although there's a vulnerability in his eyes that wasn't there before. "So," he says, his voice deceptively neutral, "what now?" 

Oswald steels himself. "I don't want to play anymore, Edward."

He doesn't elaborate; he knows Edward understands what he's referring to. The ridiculous back and forth that has led them to this point. Oswald cannot go back to that, not now, not after what they just did. 

And Edward sighs, almost defeated.

"I don't want to, either."

Relief floods Oswald's system. He allows himself a tentative smile, reaching to rest his hand on Edward's arm. "We're better together. Stronger. It's not too late for us."

His heart skips a fluttery beat as Edward reaches up to cover his hand and thread their fingers together. It feels just as intimate as any of their sexual activities. 

And Edward returns his smile. "Let's get to work then, shall we?" 


End file.
